Awake Yet Dreaming
by Aisling Lane
Summary: A note, a plane ticket, and an address. That was all there was in the envelope that changed her life forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Awake yet Dreaming**

The desolate alleys howled as the cold rush of the Irish wind weaved its way through the old buildings, teasing the debris that lined the cobble stone streets. I shuddered as the wind slipped down my top and ran its cool icy finger down my spine. I didn't know why I was here; actually, I didn't know a lot of things. My whole life and everything I had known had been shattered in the few weeks of coming to this place. It seemed this land does that to people, changes how they perceive the world, and themselves. However, this usually ends with enlightenment, love, a new beginning. Its not suppose to end in death. I squinted under the only working street light at the dark figure approaching me from about 2 blocks away. The light was flickering in a struggle against the blackness, not wanting to surrender its innocence, and hope to the mass of death. Then with one last flicker it went out, allowing the darkness to engulfed the neighborhood in a tar like thickness. A few months ago I would have completely panicked at this eerie situation, however, I have grown since then, I'm no longer the same person I was a couple months back. I could never be that person, even if I wanted to. As my eyes started to adjust to the new lighting, my hand instinctively clasped the dagger hilted at my thigh. With a slight hum, and pop, the light came back to life, and the dark figure stood before me.

"My, my, isn't someone a little jumpy tonight?"

"Where is it?" I hissed

"A little darkness too much for the great Ashlynn?"

"I don't have time to play around, Bernard. Give me what I came here for."

"A slight impatient aren't we Miss. O'Cleary" His lips curled upwards revealing his yellow, rotting teeth. I shuddered with disgust. This man always made me feel sick. I wasn't sure if it was just his appearance or if it was something else, all I knew was that he had something that Celia wanted and therefore, I wanted it as well.

"I'm losing my patience Bernard. Don't allow Alistair's fate to be yours." His aura shifted at these words. His smirk was now contorted into a hard line. He reached inside his pocket, never taking his eyes off my hand clasping the dagger. He pulled out a slightly crumpled off white envelope.

"I'll have you know this was not an easy find, many lives were lost to get this."

"And you'll be paid for your hard work." I grabbed the envelope.

"I guess it's true what they say then. After the first kill, you stop caring."

He was right. I didn't care. I didn't care if he died. I didn't care if Celia died. Hell, I didn't care if I died, as long as what I came here for was found. And to think this all started with an envelope, similar to the one I now held in my hand.

* * *

My life had always been plain. There had times when it was quite exciting, like the time I won the district spelling bee in grade four, or the time when I got a small part in a movie filmed in my home town starring Kate Hudson that never made it to theaters. Other then that, it's been pretty text book ordinary. I lived with my parents, worked a job at the Madison hotel downtown, and was attending a local college for my Bachelor of Arts Degree. We weren't a rich family. However, my parents did inherit some money from my great uncle when he passed away. I never met him, all I know is he was very old and lived somewhere in Scotland. As one can see, my life was not a daytime sitcom. When I was little I use to wish my life would be unordinary, like I would magically walk into a closet and enter a new world, like they do in the C.S Lewis books, or magically realize I could breath under water and go and live with the fishes. It wasn't that my life was horrible; it was quite the opposite really. My life was just really boring.

I loved my parents. My mother and I had weekly shopping trips down to the outlet malls, and went out for a girl's lunch. We would discuss jobs, school, and she would help me unravel my newest boy problem. We weren't just mother and daughter we were like best friends, we told each other everything. Well, maybe not everything. For an example, I would never tell my mother that I had lost my virginity in eleventh grade, in the spare bedroom, with Josh Harris, and let him keep my bra as a souvenir when she and dad were out for Aunty Irene's seventieth birthday. Or that it was me who broke her china vase that was handed down generations due to me busting more then a move with MC hammer. No, I suppose some secrets are better left unknown.

My father and I had a close relationship as well. I was his little princess and I could do no wrong, even when I backup his car into a fire hydrant when he took me out to drive. I remember him laughing as I sat there, bugged eyed and shaking with terror. "Maybe next time you could do a little more damage, I've been looking for a good excuse to buy a corvette." As one can see he was a fun and easy going guy. We would go to baseball games, eat hot dogs and wave our enormously tacky foam fingers in each others faces. We would go to the newest action and horror films that were just 'too gory' for my mother to join us. Those were our things, baseball and gory movies. I never 'talked' about my life with my father like I did with my mother, there was just no need. We had an unsaid understanding, and not to mention that he never did approve of my choices of guys.

Every night we would sit around the dining table and discuss what happened that day, if anything was new, and what we would do if we won the lottery. Fantasizing about winning the lottery was a hobby of ours. We rarely bought a ticket, but we would still talk about what if we did win. We would always discuss what we would buy first; my father would purchase a new car, like an Aston martin, my mother would pay off all our bills, and me, buy a designer crocodile purse, preferably Hermes. Our family loved the idea of winning, yet we ourselves never did. We weren't unlucky, but it wasn't like Ed McMan was knocking on our door. So when my father entered himself in his company draw for a trip for two around Europe and won, we all thought it was fate. I was twenty at the time. I was also twenty when my parents died in a devastating plane crash into the Atlantic Ocean on the way back into the U.S.

I remember the day perfectly. I had the beach boys playing on repeat on my iPod and I spent the day out on the porch, as it was a one of the hottest summers on record in my town. I just finished painting my toe nails when the phone started to ring. I recall contemplating if I should risk the perfection of my toes to answer it, but then I remembered that it could be that cute new guy I met at work the other day. Boys being my main priority at the time, I hobbled to the phone trying not to ruin my new pedicure. However, once I answered the phone, my toe nails were the least of my worries.

I grew up within the first couple of months of my parent's death. I inherited everything from my parents, the house, the car, and their debts. I learned how to invest, lease, and pay all my bills on time so I didn't go without heat, electricity, water, cable, and a telephone. The first few months I didn't have time to let the fact that my parents were dead sink in, I was just too overwhelmed with all of this responsibility thrown on top of my shoulders making me indifferent to the situation. I could barely handle school, learning how to run a house hold, and working. I would cry at night not because of my parent's death but of all the stress that followed it. I was losing my sanity. Instead of grieving and over coming their death, I buried myself into my work, and school. I took on extra projects, enrolled into some night courses in languages such as French and Italian. I had no time, or desire for any social activities and ended up alienating my friends left and right. I just couldn't stop, if I stopped even for a second I would remember that my parents were dead, and that was a reality I just couldn't face. Once I finished up my Bachelor of Arts degree 4 years later I decided it was time to sell the house. I was determined to start fresh, move on and I thought that a new beginning, i.e. moving, would be a welcoming change. The house sold within the first three months of being on the market. I hadn't even had time to find another place before I was asked to move out. I placed most of the stuff in storage and sold the remainder, I was planning on staying with a co-worker until I found my own place, I was hoping it wouldn't take very long, as she was one of those girls that liked to know your business and I was one of those girls who didn't like to share it.

I was destined to move fully out of my childhood home on May 9th, which by coincidence was my birthday. I finished loading the last group of stuff into my car, and stopped to take one last look at my house. The white, two-story building with the front porch wrapped around, the white picket fence and mom's rose garden in the front all seemed dead. It had lost its sparkle. All that was left was a memory. I looked away. I turned to close the gate, and noticed that the mail box arm was up. I remember thinking that, that was weird, since I transferred all my mail to my new address. Curious, I opened the flap and reached inside.

The envelope was unmarked, no return address, just my name; Ashlynn, in elegant script on the front. Inside was three things; an airline ticket, open one way flight to Ireland, economy class. A note, which read, "_happy 24__th__ birthday Ashlynn Ellis O'Cleary, It is now time for a new beginning._" And stuck in the corner fold of the envelope, hiding, so I almost missed it was an off white business card with just an address on it_. "450 O'Culley lane."_

It was all just too weird for me. Even for a girl who use too dream about an adventure like this, who fantasized about winning the lottery, who was trying to restart her life. This envelope should have been my savoir, my guide to the freedom land. The ticket, the note, and the address, it was like a puzzle, a quest, but was it something I wanted to take a chance on?


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks I decided to go on as normal, as if I had never found the envelope. I placed it in a box under my bed and out of my mind. My plan however, proved to be much harder then I thought. At work my thoughts strayed to Ireland, and what waited for me. I would catch myself daydreaming, and mentally push all thoughts about it away. I was older now and had no time to chase fairytales. At night I would dream about the rolling, green, hills, and the light spray of the early morning mist. I would walk a little cobble stone road in the country, leading me to a place I never knew since I would awake before I got to my destination. Even though I was awake I knew what I was dreaming about, Ireland. Over the next couple of weeks my strength grew weak and my nightly dreams wore me down. I was a hypocrite, all my life I hungered for a chance like this, to start an adventure, and now when I get the opportunity I decide against it. The twelve year old me would not be impressed, I refuse to be called a hypocrite. I booked a flight leaving at the end of the week, and joined a tour group that was site seeing across Ireland. Who said I couldn't have fun on this self finding trip. Maybe I'd meet a cute guy and we'd just hit it off, and he could join me on my adventure. I gave my notice in for work, and broke the news to my roommate that I was leaving for Ireland at the end of the week and wasn't sure when I'd be return.

"You just decided to go to Ireland, just like that? I never thought of you as a spontaneous, Ashlynn."

"Ya, well, you know, nothing like the present."

"No. There had to be a reason for this sudden decision. Why are you going? Is there a boy? Did you meet a boy? Maybe on the internet? Oh it is a boy, wow he must be cute if your going across the ocean to see him."

"No, its not a boy, or anything like that. I just need a change of scenery, a sense of a beginning, anything. It's just time to leave."

And so I left.

While on the airplane, I made a list of things to do in Ireland, to help keep my mind off which ocean I was flying over. They were as follows; finding a cute boy, or maybe two, Drinking Authentic Irish Ale, in a authentic Irish bar. Bar hopping around Dublin with the tour group, Visit the countryside and take a long walk, or maybe a bike ride along the rolling green hills…the list went on, the last thing was, Find and go to 450 O'Culley Lane. I put this last on my list because I wanted to enjoy myself, experience Ireland like a vacation, not like an order. Discovering who sent the letter and why they sent it would be the final hurrah in my journey, a thing to anticipate, or dread.

Upon arriving in the Dublin airport I was ushered into my tour group, and traveled out to where the bus was parked waiting for us. The tour group was small, no more then twenty of us, which I thought to be a good thing, less waiting around for people, and no one should get lost. However, there was one tiny, minuscule little problem with the tour group, they were all over the age of fifty. Retired, all of them. I mentally crossed off bar-hoping with the tour group off my list as I swung my bag off my shoulder and loaded it onto the bus. I sat down near the front, since all the seats in the back were filled. They all carried their camera around their necks. How old were they, seven. The tour guide, whose name was Doug started rambling off about Newgrange, a five thousand year old tomb. Its older then the pyramids.

"And that is our first stop today folks, Newgrange. Now, a few things to let you know before we take off on our Mystical Ireland adventure; one, at no time will you stray from the group, we don't want you wondering around Ireland alone. Two, the passageways in the tomb are very narrow, so if you're claustrophobic I suggest that you stay outside. There are many wondrous sites to see around Newgrange, and the view of the ocean is magnificent. Finally, three, there will be absolutely no flash photography. Sorry for all of you that bought your cameras."

There was quite the groan exhaled from the bus, as all the retirees removed their cameras and put them away.

"If there are no questions, then let us start our journey."

A circular structure emerged, as the bus came over the top of a hill. My first impression of this great ancient tomb was that it reminded me of a pancake, with grass growing from the top of it. The sides of the building were made from rocks, polished quartz to be exact. Around the structure lay, about a dozen giant boulders, each the size of those of Stone Hedge, except that instead of standing upright, they were laid down on their sides, creating a barrier around the sacred place. The tomb was situated atop of a hill over looking the Atlantic Ocean. Inside Doug droned on about the old kings that were buried here, as I tried to force myself along the passageways. The tomb itself was very narrow, and I mean narrow, a normal sized mans shoulders would scrape the sides of the passageway to enter the actual burial site. I'm not one to be claustrophobic, but I had to sooth myself a couple times to get through. I was surprised how easily most of the tour group handled the narrow passageways. Only about four of them chose not to come inside, and decided to enjoy the view of the ocean. I raked my hands along the stone walls, cold and damp. Stones which were thousands of years old. So many stories and adventures lay in these grey giants. They were smooth, and round, flush with one another, to create a perfectly blended wall that reminded me of sea glass. My fingers dragged along the smoothness, until they hit something ruff. Startled by the drastic change in texture I looked to where my fingers felt the ridge. There, where my fingers remained, where three spirals connected together creating a triangle type shape. I traced my finger along the ridges of the spirals.

"Interesting no?" I jumped at the sudden voice, and turned around. Doug stood behind me.

"These spiral shapes are found all throughout Newgrange, inside the tombs, along the passageways, and outside the building. No one really knows what they mean. Some think that they are the symbol of the king; some think it's just a design for decorating. You got to love those mysteries." He smiled at me and continued on walking through the tomb, the rest of the tour behind him.

I followed behind, fascinated by the ancient carvings. I continued to trail my finger along the swirls of each of the three spirals. I started to notice the carvings more now. They seemed prominent, jumping out at me on every wall. When we entered the main burial, I saw one carving on each of the six walls. The burial room was in a circular shape, with a domed roof. Doug continued his rants, this time about how the first king of Ireland was buried here, and how other kings followed him. I wasn't listening, I was just too absorbed with the spirals, and I couldn't tear my eyes off them. I was completely fascinated with the one above the entrance, it was larger then the others, the spirals more intact, less eroded away, spinning. Wait, spinning? The carving on the stone started to swirl, and spin, I looked around, wondering if anyone else was seeing this or if I had just imagined it. Since no one seemed to be looking my way or saying, "hey look at those spinning carvings" I decided that I was just over tired from my flight, and that my eyes where playing tricks on me. Stupid to have a tour right when we get off the plane, I thought. I pulled my glaze away from the spinning carvings and tried to regain my focus by listening to Doug. However, the spirals continued to spin, faster and faster, and the room stared to spin. Nausea was starting too crept up on me, so I diverted my eyes and looked up to the dome ceiling, which, stood still, thankfully. I closed my eyes and I took a few deep breaths. Maybe it's the lack of oxygen down here, that's got me dizzy, I thought. I opened my eyes and it was gone. Just a hazy mist covered what use to be the dome ceiling. Startled, my eyes darted to where Doug and the rest of the tour were, It was just more mist. It was cold, very cold. My skin started to bump in a desperate attempt to fight the ice from burrowing its way into my core. The mist was all around me, heavy and thick, like a curtain. Great cold and damp, the perfect mix I thought. I stood there, trying to regain my composure, and wake up, since this obviously had to be a dream of some sorts. Maybe it was a really detailed and intense day dream. Doug did have a very soothing voice that could put people in daze, and I was really tired from the flight. Yes, that is what it was I had just fallen asleep. Once I came to this decision, I heard voices that seemed in a conversation.

"If you had just done what you were assigned to do, none of this would have happened."

"So this is my fault? Well I have news for you Aiden. I would have never been assigned to this if you hadn't gone after that Subita and broke the contract."

I followed the voices until I saw two dark figures. They were too far away, and the mist was far too thick for me to identify their faces.

"Her name is Ardara, and this has nothing to do with her."

The figures eyes flashed an angry ancient jade, through the thick mist.

"It has everything to do with her. It's because of her that the contract has been broken, she's the reason all of this is happening, why the king is ill, why Aoibheal is ushering her guards out on us, why Daimus has broken free."

"What! Daimus has escaped? I thought he was banished from this world, trapped in another realm by Aoibheal."

"We all did, but when the contract became broken, it weakened Aoibheal's powers. She no longer has total reign in Faery. "

"Where is he?"

"None of us know for sure, but it's been whispered that he's in hiding, waiting until his power returns to him."

"And now the book is gone, in the hands of Tibias"

"The dark Tuatha Dé Danaan will be awakening soon. War is on the horizon."

The dark figure, which was called Aiden, turned away from his companion and stomped towards me.

"Where are you going?"

The mist was becoming fainter, thinning out. I could almost make out Aiden's pained expression.

"I have to go to her, I have to warn her."

The other figure, stood taller, and broader. He sucked in a deep breath and sighed in defeat.

"Go if you must. You are like brother to me Aidan, but if you chose to stand beside her, there will be no room for me at your side."

The mist was now almost completely gone. I could just about distinguish his facial features he speaker. I awoke to banging and shuffling around. I was in a room, lying down on cot.

"Oops sorry lass, I've been looking for a band aid, for my wife. Do you know where I could find one? Oh, never mind, I've see them."

The old man took the box of band aids from the shelf.

"How are you feeling? Took quite the bang to the head."

Once he mentioned it, a wave of pain rippled through my head. I clutched it, and lay back down.

"Awe, yes quite the bang to the head. Here let me find you some aspirin."

As the old man continued to riffle through all the shelves and cupboards, I began to think about what I saw. The two dark figures and jade eyes that seemed to have seen centuries. The broken contract. What was this contract, and how did this Aiden and Ardara break it? What is a subita? Or the Tuatha Dé Danaan? How did I get there, in that cold mist? What happened exactly? I didn't realize that I said that last bit out loud until the old man replied,

"Well my dear, you seemed to have fainted in the Newgrange. Getting you out of the tomb for air was no easy task, since the passageways are so tiny and narrow. But as you can see you are out of there, and safely in the resting room at the Newgrange office building."

I looked around the room, the walls were painted an off white, some were aligned with shelving, and others contained posters on how to defeat nausea, vertigo, and panic attacks. I looked towards the door and standing in the doorway was a plump short older woman, with glasses, and white hair. She looked liked somebody's grandma, who spends her days baking.

"Arthur where have you been?"

"I went to get you a bandage my dear." The older man replied.

"I don't need a bandage it is just a blister, I'll be fine."

Her glaze fell upon mine.

"Oh your awake, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, a little confused, but fine."

She nodded her head

"Yes, well that usually happens when you faint. Though, I don't blame you, those rooms and passageways are so tiny, and claustrophobic, I know for a fact that I couldn't enter in there. Are you traveling with anyone?"

"No. I came here myself, joined a tour group."

"Yes, seek adventure." Arthur on having found the Aspirin handed me one. I swallowed it hoping its numbing effects would work quickly.

"Do you have boy at home waiting for you?"

"Um, no."

Upon hearing this Edna clasped her hands to her heart.

"My dear you are too pretty to be alone, How about Arthur and me take you out for dinner, regain your strength, so that tomorrow you can win some Irish boy's heart."

At the thought of food my stomach rumbled.

"Sure that would be great, Thank you."

Edna and Arthur took me to this little pub in the heart of Dublin, also known as the Temple Bar District. We all ate and discussed our lives. Edna and Arthur have traveled all their lives, never settling down in one place too long to start a family. They own numerous apartments and cottages around Europe, and spend a week to several months at one before moving to the next. They had just arrived in Ireland again for the seventh time a week ago. In return to their life story, I told them about mine. About my ordinary childhood, my family's favorite past time of fantasizing about winning the lottery, about how my parents died, I even told them about the letter, plane ticket and address. I don't know what made me tell them about it, it just seemed like it was the right thing to do. Upon hearing about the letter, they asked a few questions, such as; do I have any family here? No. Has anything like this ever happened before? No and if knew where 450 O'Culley Lane was, again no. They themselves didn't know where it was either, never heard of it. They told me that they were leaving for Cork in the morning, and that they had a little flat not far from here, that I could stay at for as long as I needed to figure this mystery out. I accepted. It was startling to get late and I could tell that Edna was getting tired.

"Well dear, its getting late, I'd best be off or I'll be falling asleep right here at the table. You don't mind if I leave do you? You look a little down."

"Oh not at all, your right it is getting late. Don't worry about me. I'm fine, just over tired I suppose." I smiled up at them, such nice caring people.

"Are you sure? I'll leave the door unlocked and put extra blankets the spare bedroom for you"

"No, I really am ok. That would be great, and thanks for dinner."

"Anytime child. Are you going to be ok here alone?" Edna gathered her coat.

"Oh yes, I'll just finish up this drink and I'll be right behind you."

Arthur nodded in agreement as he added

"Ha, yes, you can never waste an Irish beer, too good for the heart."

"Ah yes Arthur, its done wonders for your heart." Replied Edna.

"No my dear wife, that has been all your doing." He smiled at her, and she just shook her head.

"Well we best be off. We have a big day tomorrow, off to Cork." Said Edna

"Yes, say goodbye to Dublin and hello to Cork." Arthur joked.

"Good night Ashlynn,"

"Good night. Thanks again for the wonderful dinner."

"Anytime, we'll see you in the morning."

As they left, I downed the rest of my remaining beer. Sitting there looking into my empty cup contemplating life, I decided that staring at the glass wasn't going to get me want I wanted, I'd have to do that myself. I stood up and marched my way over the bar, sat down, and ordered myself another beer. Sipping the freshly poured beer, I surveyed the bar. I didn't originally come to Ireland to hangout with retirees, not that that has been dull, actually it has been proving to be quite entertaining. No. I came to Ireland for a new beginning, a sense of adventure that I have craved ever since I was a little girl. Eyes scanning the room, I take notice of a cute blonde, wearing a white t-shirt and a black jacket. White and black classy. Our eyes meet and I smile, he smiles back. This is going good, I thought. Then a long dark haired girl leaves the bathroom and sits right next to him. Oh well. I continue scanning the bar, couples ranging in ages of early twenties to mid forties. A few college guys shooting the boot in the corner. I left those types of guys at home. I came here for man, for something I couldn't get back home. I was looking for…just then my eyes were met with the familiar ancient jade. I gasped. No it can't be. The dark hair was in a clean short cut that highlighted his strong chin. His angular cheek bones gave him a sense of authority, and how he sat, with his left leg-crossed, right arm rested on the back of the booth, made me uneasy. But what got me most of all was his mouth. His lips arched into a subtle smile, almost cocky. His succulent, plump, red lips, I wonder what it would be like to kiss those heavenly luscious pillows. As if I said it out loud, he looked me in the eyes as his lips parted revealing the most perfectly white, straight, smile imaginable. He stood up suddenly. He was quite tall, at least six one. His shoulders were broad; he definitely had a nice body. I had to be dreaming, no man was this perfect exists, these are the kind of men a woman reads in a cheesy romance novel, or seen in a Burberry, or Versace ad, not in a dreary little pub in Dublin Ireland. He took the stool beside me, and ordered a beer. I took a nervous sip of my drink and laid it back on the table. I was suddenly uncertain of what to do with my hands. So I reached for the pretzels' and stuffed one into my mouth, even though I wasn't hungry. This can't be, I must have fainted again, this isn't real, he can't be real.

"It depends on your definition of real."

I nearly choked on my pretzel

He extended his hand to me.

"My name is Aiden, and you must be Ashlynn O'Cleary."


End file.
